


Bad Boys and Bad Girls

by Shmeowzow



Series: Good Boys/Bad Girls [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Marvel Universe, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmeowzow/pseuds/Shmeowzow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years have passed and Patricia Chase has become quite the accomplished S.H.I.E.L.D agent. After the Winter Soldier's appearance, Steve has been a man possessed. Chase wants to help him, but can she shirk her bad luck and habits for long enough to do so?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Boys and Bad Girls

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after TWS. I plan to spend time filling the space between in the future, but I was inspired and this is what came out. Obviously, this is all head cannon, but as always I try to stay as true to the characters as possible. Enjoy!

A lot had happened in the last 2 and a half years; and Chase was feeling the weight of it all like chains around her heart. She'd been hurt, Steve had been hurt, they'd been hurt together, having both lost friends and coworkers in the tumultuous time she'd been with S.H.I.E.L.D. She'd excelled faster and further than anyone could have imagined, and it seemed she was the only one that wasn't surprised. Chase knew how talented she was; just because she'd spent most of her life utilizing herself as a criminal didn't make her skills any less real. Maybe the agency thought she would fight them more than she did. There was no point in fighting, they had her by the balls and she knew it. She wasn't going to spend her time sulking and fighting with them, if she was going to be here she might as well be fighting for them. Plus, she was bored. Chase hadn't been a huge part of the most recent Hydra fiasco, but she helped where she was needed. She only wished she'd been able to help more, to save more people. She may not have been chummy with some parties within S.H.I.E.L.D., but most of the folks who got caught up in the crossfire hadn't deserved to die.

After S.H.I.E.L.D dissolved, Chase moved permanently into Tony's tower, and most of everyone else just kind of freelanced it. Went back to doing their own things. In the meantime, the Steve situation had stabilized. They both decided that, now that they were technically living together while not working together, they needed to maintain a platonic friendship to avoid hurtful situations. Yeah, that lasted for about two days. There was just an electric, undeniable energy that crackled between them, despite the glaring discrepancies in their moral trajectory. They still enjoyed each other's bodies on occasion, but Chase made it strictly clear that she would only be a part of their tryst if it was simple; no feelings. She was able to handle that, but wasn't entirely convinced Steve felt the same way. As it was now, they were best friends and partners in crime. Well, maybe not "in crime", but they were partners. 

 

"You don't understand. I have to find him."

Steve, Natasha, and Chase were having dinner outside at an Indian restaurant in the city. Chase and Natty had been trying to broaden Steve's culinary horizons for a while now. He was surprisingly receptive; they had both expected him to reject what was not all American, but he managed to keep an open mind. Chase pondered Steve's desperate face, feeling a pang from that place in her past she refused to go. "We both understand, Steve. We've all lost someone we want to find."

Chase looked down at her plate, and Steve's face fell. He laid a hand on her knee and squeezed. "I didn't mean...look, I'm sorry, that was an insensitive thing to say, but my mind is made up. Sam is going to help me hunt him down."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Natty spoke up, her eyes cutting to Steve. His own widened with surprise at her doubtful statement. Before he could reply, Chase cut in. "I agree. I know he was your closest friend, but it's safe to say he's not the same person anymore. They changed him Steve, and I don't know if you're equipped to handle the aftermath. You're too close."

He removed his hand from her knee and laid both of them in his lap, fists clenched. His face gave away just how confused and hurt he was, eyebrows knit and lips spread thin against each other. Chase hated seeing him upset; he didn't deserve this. Hell, he didn't deserve anything that had happened to him his entire life. If Chase could prevent him from ever looking so wounded again, she'd do it without a thought. Afterward they remained quiet, save to ask for the check. None of them had much of an appetite anymore. Steve drove on the way home, with Natasha and Chase in the back, making small talk to detract from the silence. Natty locked eyes with Chase, searching. They seemed to understand what the other was thinking, that being "Uh-oh". Chase grabbed Natasha's hand and laced her fingers between the other woman's. Natty smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, and neither did Chase's.

They all retired to their respective rooms in the Tower, and Chase stripped down so she could take a much needed shower. Curry was delicious, but the smell stayed with you, especially in your hair. As the hot water cascaded down her body in rivulets, Chase rubbed it all over her hair and face anxiously. This whole Bucky thing was getting really out of hand. Ever since Steve learned The Winter Soldier's identity, he never stopped talking about it; planning things, raving in elevated tones. Some nights he didn't sleep. When Chase would wake at night for a glass of water she'd hear him in his room, or pacing the halls. Chase couldn't help worrying for him, she'd never seen him this way, so undone. He was always the rainbow after the storm; pleasant and tranquil. Chase had seen The Winter Soldier in person, briefly, before he began to tail Natasha. She was surprised and enthralled by his great metal arm, but could discern nothing else save the curly brown hair that reached his shoulders, and his eyes; the rest of his face was being covered by some sort of tactical muzzle. In that instant she found him beautiful, and so dangerous. It wasn't necessarily a sexual attraction, though that wasn't something inconceivable. It was more like Chase being drawn to him as if he were a statue, or a work of art. He swung his head as if he'd heard Chase thinking and spotted her, then raised his gun. Chase reached for hers, but when their eyes locked, they both froze. His were so empty, so pitiless it made her gasp. That noise seemed to break the hold on them, and without hesitating he turned around and ran in the other direction, returning focus to his targets. When Chase saw his eyes that day, she broke out in involuntary gooseflesh. There was something in there, but she couldn't imagine what, or how deep his darkness ran. There was just something wrong about him; something irreversibly wrong. She knew Steve, and she knew how much he cared about Bucky, how much he meant to him. That man was not Bucky anymore, he was something else, something para-human. Chase's heart dropped when she thought about how torn up Steven would be if they didn't find him, or worse; they did find him, brought him back, and Steve killed himself emotionally trying to resuscitate the lost soul in his friend's body while Chase watched helplessly.

 

After clearing her head, drying off and changing, Chase walked down the hall and opened the door to Steve's to without knocking. He didn't even look up from the book he was holding on his bed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She damned him for always looking so precious. "I'm not letting you do this, you know."

He didn't speak right away, but Chase knew that he heard her. Moving into the room, she scooted Steve's legs and sat down beside them, then took the book from his hand and closed it; another one of his attempts at catching up with the goings on that passed him by while he slept. He looked up at her earnestly, face just this side of neutral. "That's not up to you, Chaser."

She huffed, having a hard time getting him to take her seriously. She knew how much all of this meant to him, but he had to understand the risks. "I mean it, Steve! You have no idea what you're getting into."

Chase glanced at the muscles in his arms as they tightened. "I'm Captain America, I think I can handle him."

Now she was getting upset, throwing her hands up in the air. "What, like you handled him when he made lasagna out of your face?!"

Steve was also becoming visibly rattled by her blunt words, nearly shaking with the effort of keeping calm. She could tell his nerves were frayed to nothing, and it made her sad. He looked back up at her, blue eyes drowning deep. "If he wanted me dead, then I would be. He chose to save me, there has to be a reason. I know he's still in there."

Chase, shaking her head, trying to find something, anything that will convince him not to do this, or to at least wait until tensions weren't so high, so he could think about the situation logically. "That may be true, but you don't know how much is left, and how much has been replaced with something else. You don't need to put yourself through that Steve, you're tired! I care about you, why won't you let me help you?"

She moved to grasp his hand but he snatched it away, crossing his arms and reclining against the bedpost. Runaway blonde strands of his freshly washed hair decorated his face here and there. Even angry, even hurt, he still looked like a Godamned angel. Then, he laughed pitifully, and it was barely audible. "You care enough to spare me from insanity, but not enough to be with me?"

Chase sighed, burying her face in her hands. Why now, of all times, did he decide to bring this up again? Why would he want to mess them both up emotionally, when they were already running on empty? "Steve, please, let's not do this right now."

He got up and began pacing the room, but had gone silent once more. Chase didn't know what to say. She loved him as a friend, but she could never be with him. They were too different. They didn't play for the same team. She knew he wanted more, he had trouble ceasing to make it obvious, but she could not do that to him. Too much about her future was up in the air to become attached to that man only to turn around and hurt him by being herself. He had to know her boundaries up front, any emotional torture he was putting himself through right now was all him, but she still couldn't help feeling guilty, nor could she silence that part of her that did want to be with him; to be good enough for him, he deserved that.

Once Chase trusted her voice, she tried to make her feelings clear. She looked strait at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Steve, you know you mean so much to me, but I can't just belong to one person. I can't, it's not who I am."

His arms fell, defeated. "Why not? When did the world become so complicated that a man can't love a woman and have her love him back?"

Chase rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her least favorite arguments were ones where she had to clarify modern day boundaries. "It became that complicated when smart people stopped pretending that the american dream is to settle down and play house. Some people are different Steve, and they always have been. There have always been strange people, the only difference is now they're not stoned for it. I'm one of them, Steve."

He flinched at the word "stoned". They both knew well enough nobody was still getting stoned to death in the 40's save for a few hate crimes here and there, but the point rang true. "You said you care about me."

Chase sighed so heavy it felt like she was sinking. "Yes, you know I do, but that doesn't mean-"

Steve surprised her by moving forward and grasping her arms; not in an aggressive way, just insistent. His face was strained with confusion and so many other emotions. "Why can't it, Chaser? You care about me and I care about you. We have trouble keeping our hands off of each other sometimes. It makes sense!"

She had trouble looking him in the eye; he was so desperate, desperate for answers to questions that were beyond the capability of her understanding. His pain moved Chase, but it didn't change what she had promised herself the first time they slept together. She promised herself not to ruin the only truly "good" person she'd ever met, even if a part of her wanted it just as much as he did. She only wished she could make him understand, she was tired of talking in circles. Reaching up, Chase took Steve's face in her hands and forced him to look at her, she was shaking her head sadly. "Sense has nothing to do with it, Cap."

Steve let go of her arms, defeated. It seemed that as much as Chase fought her own feelings to keep him safe, it still wasn't enough. She felt like a sickness, like she tarnished him irrevocably in the day they met. More than anything, she needed to stay true to herself, and right now that meant she couldn't let herself get attached in a romantic way. Damned if she did, damned if she didn't. She kissed him on the forehead, because she didn't know what else to do. He didn't move; his eyes were shut tight and his breathing controlled. Just before leaving, she poked her head back through the door. "And you're not going."

 

All it took was 2 weeks and a few favors cashed in for Chase to find Bucky. He hadn't gone far, probably due to some severe delirium and wounds. Steve said The Winter Soldier seemed unstable; not like the laser focused killing machine behavior they'd all come to expect.

He fought her tooth and nail, but with Natasha and Tony's help, Chase managed to convince Steve to let her scope it out first. He was worried about her safety, but she was quick to remind him she'd survived like this for years; by the sword, staying alive via careful discretion. It had been hard for her to leave him like that, in the mental state he was in, but she knew it was going to get worse before it got better; she had to act now.

Chase walked to a crumbling cluster of overpasses outside of the city that were under construction. Yeah, they had been "under construction" for over three years. The space was littered with abandoned cars, shipping containers, and people. The homeless didn't give her a second glace; she wasn't dressed ostentatiously, and a dark hoodie hid her hip holster. She trusted her ability enough to bring only one gun. Foolish? Maybe, but she didn't want to be weighed down with unnecessary artillery in a pinch.

Chase pulled the firearm free as she entered a dark alleyway, prepared for, she hoped, anything. She'd never had to apprehend a mentally jarred military defect before, but all she could do was count on her instincts and pray to whomever that her skills would serve her well. She expected an ambush when she kicked down a makeshift door to a small crumbling structure, but all that greeted her was old construction equipment, broken wood and concrete, and dust. Her sources instructed Chase that there had been unusual activity at these coordinates, and had a confirmed sighting of the Soldier by one of their plants. Drawing a flashlight from a utility garter, she shone it into the darkness, powdery orbs of detritus and crumbs floating through its beam. Then she heard something...strange. Her breathing quickened, and she was suddenly hyper aware of the scuffling plod each of her boots made on the concrete. The sounds were audible but shaky; it took her a while to realize it was music _._

_"When will it cloy? This odd diversity of misery and joy, I'm feeling quite insane and young again, And all because I'm mad about the boy."_

Chase's heart froze and she continued moving forward as the words began to make sense in her head. She knew the Soldier definitely had to be here now, somewhere. Obviously he was hiding out. Did he even know who, or where he was? She couldn't imagine how scared he must be, and worried how he would react to an armed stranger. There was a light around the corner, and Chase braced herself behind the wall, taking a deep breath before crouching tight and moving quickly forward. Focus. All she had to do was convince him she didn't mean him any harm, and that he needed to come with her for medical attention. She hoped he would be coherent enough to understand, but didn't have high hopes. She would shoot him if she had to, but of course Chase didn't want it to come to that. Nonetheless, she had to be prepared to do what was necessary to get Steve's friend back to him in one piece; she could not go back to him empty handed, he wouldn't be able to deal with it, and she would never forgive herself. Chest heaving, she peeked around the corner into a small room, seemingly empty of anything living.

Hot wind rushed out of her lungs and she fell flat on her elbows and wrists, knowing what was going to happen just seconds before it actually did. Clumsy fucking mistake. After hitting the floor she managed to pull half of a roll off and stay tight to the ground, pointing her gun and flashlight upward, steady handed. The record still crackled and crooned away in the abandoned room as she assessed the man in front of her, whom, for whatever reason, wasn't moving after administering his initial blow of surprise. Chase had never seen the Soldier without his tactical mask before, save for in Cap's old photos. He was fucking beautiful; stared at her, eyes seeming cold and confused, framed by exquisite cheekbones and woefully mistreated hazelnut waves of hair. His swollen arms were scuffed, covered in grime, and so were his clothes. Chase could tell by his pallor and the way his skin clung to him that he was starved and dehydrated. She could hear herself breathing, and also Bucky's own breaths labored not by exertion, but fear. His eyes were wild and he was pacing. Chase held her ground, gun still pointed. Carefully picking her words, she decided to try and communicate before doing anything drastic. "Please don't move, I'm here to help you."

He seemed to recoil, but didn't say anything. He raised a hand to his face, blocking her bright beam from his eyes. God, but he looked so lost. She hoped to get through to him, not just for Steve, but for himself. "My name is Chase, I was sent here by a good friend of yours to come get you. I know you're confused, but you have to come with me, please."

He shook his head violently, face twisting in fury. "No! I'm not going anywhere."

Okay, at least she had him talking now, coherently, even. Maybe this would be easier than Chase initially thought. "I don't know what's happened to you, but I think some bad people took away your memories. I'm not here to do that, okay?"

He whimpered, rubbing his eyes. Chase took the beam of her light away from his face, feeling sorry for not thinking to do so earlier. His voice was dry and pitiful. "I don't feel good. I want to go to sleep. Why were you looking in my room?"

Chase sighed, changing her mind about the situation. It was bad. She was going to have to proceed very carefully. Steve often spoke of the state Bucky was in the last he saw him, but it had clearly devolved further. "Because I heard your music. It was very pretty."

He nodded, aimlessly. "I've always liked the sound of her voice..."

His thought trailed away, and his features looked strained with thought, processing incomplete amnesia. She gave it another go. "Listen, I can take you to a better place to sleep, it's okay to come with me, I promise."

"I don't want to go anywhere with anyone!"

Chase cursed herself for mentioning the tune she heard, it had confused him and agitated his already highlighted insecurities. Bucky began to run, and Chase immediately scampered out of her crouch and after him. He wasn't going as fast as she knew a super soldier could; she was having no trouble keeping up, and he didn't seem to be going anywhere really, just trying to flee aimlessly like a startled animal. He was growling, stomping, and grasping at his skull while crying out, like it hurt for him to think. She attempted to get him to calm down by breathlessly appealing to what was left of the man inside this poor science project. "Your name is Bucky Barnes! I know you don't remember-"

He snapped around, throwing a leg behind her knees, causing her to cry out on her way to the concrete, flashlight clattering to the floor. She still had her gun, but she was reeling in pain and the vertigo sudden loss of light caused her to feel. Chase felt pain spring up from her rib cage when he kicked again, but this time she jumped up, trying to see enough to fight. Hearing a shuffle off to her right, she swung the butt of the gun and landed a forceful hit to where his shoulder met neck. Bucky cried out and shoved her away. Spinning, she kicked him in the chest and it felt like kicking an old, deep-rooted tree, there was no give. He grabbed for her leg and when she countered, his forearm slammed into her face, drawing blood from her lip. Chase lined up a punch, but had no chance to execute when she felt the full force of his torso pushing against her until her shoulder blades smashed into stone. With his body suffocating hers, it was hard to think of a way to get away from the wall. Her face and chest were throbbing, and she hadn't even made him sweat. He was so cracked; Chase couldn't imagine how Steve would have reacted had he come to find his friend in this condition, confused, broken, jarred. He wash lashing out because he was frightened. She knew Steve was better equipped to handle him physically, but wasn't so sure about the rest, and now knew her decision to come in his stead was the right one. Chase felt an unexpected pressure at her solar plexus and realized Bucky was smelling her skin; tickling electricity followed the contact. This was so not good. "Why do you smell..."

He trailed off, nose moving from chest to collarbone, then to the crook of her neck and ear. Her pulse jumped, and she tried very hard to focus on the main objective. She wasn't in any kind of mental state to deal with these kinds of advances; Steve had been suffocating her on and off with his forceful talk of commitment for 2 years, and she was fraying around the edges with the pressure of behaving. Behaving was not her strong suit, and when she felt trapped she tended to react in not so productive ways. Being bad just felt too much like home. Trying to unpin her arm and gun from between their bodies, she was stopped by him pulling Chase back and shoving her into the wall again. "You smell like someone."

"Mmm." Chase pleaded with him internally to stop talking. She didn't know who he thought she smelled like, but she really needed him to get his face a lot further away from hers. His left hand was so cold against her arm and she felt that strange draw she'd noticed the day she first laid eyes on him uncurl and stretch its legs; it was oh so uncomfortable for her. Nose still leaving trails of goosebumps on her neck, Chase tried again to reason with him. She swallowed heavy, voice cracking. "Bucky, please listen to me. I don't want to fight you-"

One hand still pinning her, he moved the other over her body downward, catching the hem of her pants and bunching the fabric up in his fist. Shivering, she didn't even notice she'd dropped the gun and was now using that hand to try and fail at pushing the Soldier away from her. Chase could scarcely breathe; it was as if her body had been waiting for this, for something dangerous again, something that wouldn't bore her. No. There were so many things that made this wrong, but none of them seemed to matter now. Chase didn't feel like dwelling on it. His body was responding, he pulled her tighter to him by her pants, teeth catching her jawline. "You smell so good."

His voice was insistent, searching for an answer to a question she wasn't even sure he knew. She had to put an end to this before she did something very, very bad. "You have to stop."

It felt as if he was purring now, like a dark, old jaguar engine. His lips landed just shy of the corner of Chase's mouth. Her brain was trying to claw its way out of her skull. He was deranged, so gorgeous, so sick out of his own broken mind; and she wanted him. Chase wanted to cure him with her body, and she knew exactly how, she'd done it so many times before with Shane, with Natasha, with Steve. Using her last vestige of accrued good intentions, Chase managed to get her arms free and grabbed both sides of Bucky's face, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Listen to me, Soldier. You're sick. Someone who cares about you very much wants to help you. I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

That seemed to get through, and he looked away from her face. "I am sick. I don't feel good, in my head. It hurts."

The poor man in front of Chase was so desperate it broke her heart. Tentatively, she took his upper body in her arms, hoping it was of comfort, that he wouldn't get spooked again. "Shhh. I know what it feels like to not feel very good in your head. I can make it stop."

His arms locked around her, making Chase gasp. Bucky looked down at her face, and for the first time she saw the color of his eyes. Things were going downhill fast. "You're sick too?"

His left arm raised behind her back, and Chase tried not to feel threatened when he stroked the top of her head with it, fingers finding her hair tie and pulling it out. Grabbing gobs of her hair, he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply. "Are you sick like me?"

Chase was just about done. She had poor self control and he wouldn't stop pushing her, button after button; she thought Steve was put on this earth to push her buttons, but now she knew differently. This Soldier just pressed different ones. Nodding, she wanted to cry. Cry over how fucked up this situation was, over what she was probably about to do, over the fact that she wasn't letting how much it would hurt Steve if she did bother her. He knew she wasn't tied to him, but she also knew he cared deeply about her, and this wouldn't be high on the list of things Cap could tolerate, especially after their last conversation on that particular subject. All trains of thought ended when Bucky's hips rolled into hers, again catlike in form. She made a desperate noise in her throat and nodded, feeling her fleeting paragon tendencies melt away into her inner darkness, restlessness. Everything with Shane and James, with S.H.I.E.L.D and Hydra, and everything with Steve Rogers, all of that pressure to be a different person erupted in that moment. "Yes. I'm sick just like you."

He cried out in what sounded like both happiness and sorrow, crushing her tighter into his body. She squeaked involuntarily when his grasp became unbearable, and his chest rumbled at the sound. Chase made Bucky look at her. "I can make you feel better."

Eyes wide, he nodded, pushing his mouth against hers like that was the only thing he'd ever wanted his whole life. The Soldier hoisted her from the floor and into his arms, pressing her back against the wall so they was nothing between their breasts. Chase felt a long lost energy pour over and out of her; it tasted like sour candy and she used it to devour the lips of the damaged man holding her up. This was so wrong. A million reasons to stop flowed in and out of her head just as quickly. All she cared about right now was how good his solid, trembling body felt against hers. Chase's almost choked on air when Bucky bowed his hips forward; feeling him so solid through his pants made this all more real, more exciting. She ground back just as hard, creating friction and heat that made her want to scream. She yelled aloud when his teeth caught the part of her lip his elbow made contact with, and she already felt other parts of her face swelling. He seemed not to hear her, sucking her wound gently, as if apologizing for putting it there. His great metal arm felt freezing against Chase's flushed skin as he fumbled with her trousers while the hand that was still part of a man pawed gently at the fabric of her bra. His insistence  was driving her insane, his pure _need_. She loved it when people needed her; it was so much easier to keep her own demons at arm's length. He made desperate noises when she began unfastening his own clothing. Her pants were now bunched around her knees, and the poor Soldier looked into her eyes. For just that brief moment, he didn't look scared anymore. She moved her hips over, and he attempted to force himself all in, but he was too wide. Chase's throat ached with the effort it took to growl her way through every excruciating inch he ground into her, until it was over. She felt herself relax, open up a bit, when he moved both hands to her hips, and started using them as leverage to grind himself into her relentlessly. It wasn't even like fucking, not really. It was two people using each other's bodies and insecurities greedily. Her nails left angry red marks until they hit scar tissue and metal, where she stopped. Chase's other hand was busy trying to claw that beautiful hair out of his head. His moans were like music, she could almost hear "Mad About the Boy" replaying within them. She began to chirp in tandem, losing herself in their hips, focusing on the song stuck in her head. She rode the waves of the orgasm the former Bucky Barnes drew out of her, and knew he was undone too when she could feel her skin tearing from how hard he was grinding her into the wall. 

They fell in a heap on the dusty floor, and Bucky looked like he was ready to pass out, delirious and exhausted. Chase held his chin in her hand. "We have to go now, okay?"

He paused, still looking quite confused, eyes shining. He wasn't in his head; had never been, only now it was worse, and Chase knew it was her fault. She sighed, helping him back into his clothes. She wrapped him up in a blanket she found in his little room, and he didn't put up a fight when he was lead back the way she came.

Well, things were certainly more complicated than they had been, to say the least. God, how much trouble had she gotten herself into? She didn't know what to do, and was having a hard time quelling her panic. She could never tell Steve what happened, not in his current state, or the state he'd be in when he saw Bucky again. It wouldn't be fair. Steve would never forgive her, but if she lied, she would never be able to live with herself, not after lying to _him._ She was already going to have a hard time. Chase was so at war with her own emotions that it was making her feel ill. On one hand, she felt in the right, because she promised Steve if he trusted her she would hurt him, and that's why he could never have her; she felt in the wrong about the whole part where she slept with his mentally deranged former best friend before bringing him home. On the other hand, what if she'd hindered Bucky's theoretical future progress by being so careless? Her heart just kept sinking further and further, but her darkness kept telling her it was all worth it, worth the fun. Chase knew she had these compulsions, these wills to do as she pleased with her body and with her life. She was at peace with her strange obsessions, it was other people that never understood, that always insisted on thinking they could somehow change her. They always ended up disappointed. That's why Shane and even James, at times, had been so perfect. They had an accord, knew themselves well, and didn't take much personally, at the best of times. Not a lot of other people can operate on that level. Another part of Chase felt dark and sick too; the part where she hated what she'd just done because of how much she cared about Steve.

"Shit." Chase muttered to herself and Bucky seemed not to notice. Pushing worries of the future to the back of her mind, she focused on getting herself and the wounded Soldier back to safety.

 

 


End file.
